


A Merchant's Tale

by ThePaintedScorpionDoll



Series: Scenes from a War-Forged Courtship [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Brief character mentions, DA Remix Fest 2017, Gen, Sandal Feddic - Freeform, Warden Alistair, da remix fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 09:49:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11871801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePaintedScorpionDoll/pseuds/ThePaintedScorpionDoll
Summary: When a golem needs a gift, Bodahn Feddic is the only one with the skills to complete this quest.





	A Merchant's Tale

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Squishiness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/97914) by [sqbr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sqbr/pseuds/sqbr). 



> Written for [DA Remix Fest 2017](https://daremixfest.tumblr.com/)!

It cannot be ignored that the Wardens have attracted their share of strange companions. When they rescued Bodahn Feddic and his son in Lothering, they were already strange enough—what with one being a she-elf, the other a human man—but then there was the mabari, the apostate mage, the Chantry sister, and the Qunari tagging along. When their paths crossed again and he was allowed a spot to rest and ply his trade in the Wardens’ camp, Bodahn noticed the small band had grown to include a proper mage of the Circle and an Antivan elf who (according to Warden Alistair) originally set out to kill them by order of Teyrn Loghain.

_(“Don’t ask me why she keeps him around. I still don’t understand it myself. Still, I trust Aeron’s judgment—I do! Honest, I do! I’m just…not going to sleep without a knife near my pillow from now on.”)_

Bodahn couldn’t (and still can’t) blame the boy for being cautious. The years of being a merchant, if not just the nature of growing up in Orzammar, well instilled the lesson of caution as one of the highest virtues. Still, it’s been rather nice to see that her faith has been well-placed. Maybe it helps that she soundly beat the assassin in combat—or so claimed her fellow Warden, anyway, in such a tone as to make made Bodahn wonder if he should start stocking flowers and chocolates.

It wasn’t until their fourth meeting or so, that he met the other dwarf—a cast-off from the warrior caste who easily cleaned out all of Bodahn’s alcohol on his first encounter with the wagon shop. Bodahn was quick to learn which flavors Oghren liked best after that, and the man always pays him well enough (although how, Bodahn knows better than to ask).

After that, he was certain the Wardens would never find anyone else to round out their little group—not even after the Chantry sister gained a nug for a pet!

He was wrong, of course. And now, as they gather in camp for the evening, she approaches his wagon—a tall, solid figure made literally of stone and magic beyond Bodahn’s understanding; recruited (again, according to Warden Alistair) during a stop in Honnleath.

 _(“A golem, made by the dwarves themselves, if you can believe it! Not that—I mean, it’s not to imply that they_ couldn’t _—you know, since they obviously_ could _and_ did _—a-anyway, anyway. She seems to really hate birds. I-I mean_ really, really _hate them. Just last week, I had to stop her from decimating a flock of chickens on a farm we cleared of darkspawn! She threatened to crush my head. Aeron reminded her that Wynne couldn’t heal that sort of thing. It was very awkward, but…I’m alive and the chickens are, too, so…it all worked out, I suppose!”)_

Bodahn keeps this in mind as he puts on his best smile and prepares to do what he does best.

“Well, hello there! Shale, was it?” He gives a glance to the glowing red crystals decorating her shoulders, wrists, and ankles. “How can I be of help to you this fine evening?”

“I am to understand the Merchant Dwarf is the one who sold the Grey Warden the gifts which it then gave to the rest of its party, myself included. Is this correct?”

“That were my doing, sure.” Bodahn remembers the transaction; among the items were a doll, toy figures of a horse and knight, a prayer book written in the Qunari tongue…and a rock painted to have simple eyes and a smiling mouth. “I trust they were received well?”

“I cannot speak for others, but as a gesture, I found it, at first, confusing. A lump of stone that does not move? What purpose does that serve?” Shale’s face barely moves, but he finds himself thinking that she looks as close to annoyed as a golem can look. “The Warden has since explained to me that it meant the gift in jest, given my nature, and after some reflection I have since found it to be…appropriate.”

“Ah.” What else can he say to that? “So that’s…good, then, I suppose?”

“The Merchant Dwarf is correct to assume this,” Shale answers, “which is why I wish to speak with it now.”

He brightens. A purchase, is it? Perfect! That, he can do easily.

“Well, it’s like I told the Wardens—if I don't have it now, I only need a bit of time to find it. And, since you're with them, I’ll even sell it at a discount! So—” He claps his hands together. “What did you have in mind?”

“I seek a gift for the Qunari; something to show appreciation for our talks and its skills in crushing darkspawn like puny birds.” She is already eyeing the wares he has yet to put away for the night. “As of now, I find myself at a loss.”

“Have you an idea of what he might like?”

“I asked the Grey Warden for its opinion. It stated the Qunari has an interest in art. The Sister overheard our conversation and stated the Qunari was also partial to… _kittens_ , if that can be believed.”

Bodahn wonders if he can be forgiven for having trouble doing just that, but opts not to say so aloud.

“in any case,” Shale continues, “I would imagine the Merchant Dwarf has something among its wares to prove suitable.”

Would he? True, he did just finish a sweep of some abandoned villages not more than a week before, hadn’t he? But it was keepsake stuff mostly; books and toys, old dolls, some bed linens. Still…perhaps he just might. Certainly, wouldn't hurt to try, now would it?

“I don't make a habit of keeping live creatures anymore—” Not after what went wrong one summer when Bodahn stopped out near Amaranthine, anyway. ”—but you wait right here! I’ll see if we can’t get you sorted.”

Shale regards him with a truly unreadable expression. “Waiting, it will find, is something I have no trouble doing.”

He does not pause to consider if she might be making a joke. Instead his focus is on searching for likely candidates. Qunari are practical in mind, aren't they? Everything has a purpose and there is a purpose for everything. Bodahn doubts that toys and figures would have no appeal to such a warrior (although the thought does remind him to pull out a pair of griffons he is almost certain Alistair will want). He finds a book that seems related to the Qun within a chest full of items acquired in a home that probably belonged to a teacher and pulls it, along with a book about the history of war in Ferelden and the surrounding region. True, neither book might not have or be about cats, but perhaps Sten might enjoy them all the same.

In another box, he finds a knife with a pommel shaped like a lion's head forever caught in a threatening roar. Bodahn has seen Sten use knives around camp, but in their interactions, he has only ever seemed interested in swords. The Antivan assassin, however—Zevran, Alistair said his name was?—seems extremely partial to shorter blades for combat. If the golem passes on the blade as a gift, perhaps it might still find a home with him.

Onwards to another box, then! In here, Bodahn finds several small paintings and works of delicate needlepoint—things Bodahn would sooner try selling to either Wynne or Leliana. He decides to bring the entire little collection outside with him because, well, who knows? He’s had some surprises before.

When Bodahn returns outside, he finds Sandal standing with her. The boy is entranced by the crystals that give her power and Shale…

Well. A strange collection of travelers they are, but Bodahn Feddic is always grateful for the patience and kindness they show towards his son.

“Right. Here we are.” He lays his wares on a nearby table and begins to spread them out for her to survey. “Sorry for the wait. I hope my boy didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

“The Merchant’s offspring has shown an interest in my crystals. That is hardly cause for trouble at all, as they are lovely to behold,” Shale answers.

Sandal turns towards his father, a smile as his fingers run across the crystals on one of her wrists. “Enchantment!”

“Enchantment? I suppose they are similar in nature to true enchanted items, yes. You have an eye for these things, don’t you? The Warden has told me this.”

Sandal turns his smile towards her. “Pretty enchantment.” He pats her on the wrist. “Pretty.”

“I am pleased you think so! They _do_ make me very pretty,” Shale answers.

“Now Sandal, let's let the pretty lady do her shopping a moment, eh? Here—” Bodahn finishes laying out his found wares and steps back to let her inspect at her leisure. “Take the time you need. Ask me if you need any help.”

“Of course.”

And now comes the waiting, the watching; the hardest part of the merchant craft. With humans, it’s fairly easy to tell when they have found what they’re looking for, or when they have found something extra but are trying to resist paying more than they wanted or should. (They also tend to be the easiest to talk into making that extra purchase, usually by way of appealing to their sense of wanting to feel as if they got a good deal.) Elves, whether of the Dalish or from the cities, are much more shrewd customers, buying only what they need and spending only as much as they can afford. Many of them are sound negotiators, and Bodahn has always held a measure of respect for those who can recognize the value in what they purchase. (The Antivan is a fine example of this skill. Bodahn opts not to think about how he might have honed it.) Dwarves run the gamut; wealthier ones sparing no expense while surfacers give the elves a right proper challenge when it comes to the game of haggling.

But this… Bodahn has no regular experience selling items to golems! He has nothing to reference, no tells he can decipher to reveal if he might be making a sale or not. Shale’s glowing eyes pass over each item with no change to them. She handles each item with a surprisingly delicate touch. Occasionally, a small hum of interest or thought leaves her. (She appears to completely ignore the lionhead knife.) Could he have been wrong? Is there nothing here that could be suitable? Surely, the books should have at least piqued some interest, right?

“I-if there’s nothing there you like, I can go back and try to find—”

“No need. I have seen enough.” And his heart drops at first; then he notices that Shale is holding up one of the small wooden frames from the box containing the paintings and needlepoints. “I should like to purchase this.”

Bodahn blinks. “A painting? Are you sure?”

“I am quite certain. Unless…” She fixes him with what he assumes to be a questioning look. “Is there something defective about this painting it should tell me about? Some problem in the paint or the frame, perhaps?”

“No, no! Nothing like that—” He tries not to sound nervous as he approaches. “Nothing like that at all. Just like to make sure a customer’s settled and satisfied.”

“I would say that I am, yes.” Shale looks at the painting in her hands again. “Indeed. I would almost venture to say this item is the perfect combination of the Qunari’s interests. Why wouldn’t it favor such a gift?”

Bodahn holds out his hand. “May I?”

She gives it to him with the same sort of gentleness she showed his wares. Soon as he lays eyes on it—

“Well!” He lets out a short laugh. “Isn’t that some fancy chance? You seem to have some luck with you.”

“Hmm. Perhaps I might.” And in a moment of silence, she smiles. “Now, shall we commence to discussing the price? That is still the customary way, is it not?”

Bodahn blinks. He recovers quickly enough, however, and he smiles in return.

And then he prepares to do what he does best.


End file.
